


Tidal Wave

by iselsis



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Bad Parent Willis Todd, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dead Catherine Todd, Gen, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Protective Bruce Wayne, Selkie Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28749477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iselsis/pseuds/iselsis
Summary: It took a month after Catherine died for Willis to finally follow through on the all his threats and sell Jason off to the first rich freak who'd cough up some cash for a nine-year-old selkie pup.That person was Bruce Wayne.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Willis Todd
Comments: 67
Kudos: 627





	Tidal Wave

**Author's Note:**

> So I read Veriatas's latest selkie thing when it came out and my love for selkie!Jay was piqued again, and then this wouldn't go away, and since I couldn't sleep, this just kind of happened, but I didn't want to edit/publish it until after I'd published the next chapter of Coat and Cowl. Ta-da!
> 
> Just to be clear: this is _not_ in the same universe as Coat and Cowl.

“Daddy, please, no!” Jason screamed, his last form of protest that Willis hadn’t banned yet.

Jason had to take quick steps to stay with his father, hastening his way to his own doom despite his mind’s protest. He wanted to be crying, dragging his heels, or running in the opposite direction, but his father’s meaty hand was fisted around his small coat, forcing Jason to his will. _Don’t cry. Don’t run. Don’t fight me, bitch. Keep up._

“Shut up!” Willis snapped, slapping Jason upside the head so hard Jason stumbled and would have skidded face-first along the concrete if his dad hadn’t grabbed him roughly by the arm and jerked him back up to his feet.

“ _Useless,_ ” Willis muttered under his breath as another shove got Jason moving again.

Jason wished he’d fallen and scraped his face so badly that it was a bleeding mess and no one would ever want to touch him again, but it was too late. He considered just diving straight into the sidewalk himself, too fast for his dad to catch him, but his instincts twinged against that. That stupid magical part of him forced into submission by whoever had his coat balked at the idea of doing something that could be perceived as _fighting_ or _not keeping up_. Even screaming had been pushing it.

So Jason did nothing to prevent his dad from hauling his ass into a dark alley where the dim glow of the streetlamps illuminated almost nothing but the filth. Abandoned newspapers and paper wrappers skittered around his feet in the slight breeze, and the smell of rotting garbage and what was probably a corpse in the dumpster they passed clung to his nostrils and the back of his throat.

Jason kept his eyes on his feet so he didn’t _step_ on anything, so he didn’t realize that his dad had stopped until he walked straight into his back.

His stomach rose up in his throat. Not just the scraps of a bagel he’d swiped from his dad that morning, but the entire fucking organ.

More than ever, Jason wanted to cry, but his dad _hated_ crying and had banned it weeks ago after he’d found Jason curled up, sobbing on top of his mom’s body. Jason’s eyes stung furiously, but nothing fell.

His dad had been saying for years, any time Jason had made him mad, that he was going to sell Jason’s coat to the first rich schmuck who’d shell up for him. Willis had been very descriptive about what kind of things those men would make Jason do—had given Jason “lessons” to prepare him for life on his knees, but Jason had never actually thought he’d _actually_ sell him. It had just been a thing he’d said, but now it was too late.

Jason, eyes still on the ground, could see _his_ shadow. The shadow of the man who was going to buy him. It was _huge_. Jason’s dad was _big_ , at least compared to Jason, but that man was…

Jason bent over and threw up, his bile splashing against the filthy cement and his father’s shoes.

Willis snarled in wordless fury, his shadow spinning with a clenched fist as Jason kept vomiting. The other man’s shadow darted forward, though, and snatched his dad’s fist before the blow could fall.

“Don’t,” the man said, his deep, booming voice setting off another wave of dry heaving. “I don’t want bruises.”

Willis growled under his breath, but only grabbed Jason roughly by the neck and dragged him around so he was in front of his dad, facing his new owner. Jason covered his face with his hands, hoping and praying that the man wasn’t as big as he’d looked and sounded.

His dad’s fingers dug into Jason’s neck and definitely would bruise, but the man didn’t say anything about it that time.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” Willis snapped, an order Jason couldn’t have helped but follow since he had _nothing_ left in his stomach.

Jason whimpered and nodded.

“Put your hands down and look him in the eye,” Willis snapped.

Jason’s hands moved downward of their own volition as an invisible rope slowly raised his jaw higher, and higher, and _higher_ until he was looking the massive man in the eye.

Jason pressed back against his dad’s body, his heart pounding so hard he thought his ribs would break.

The man was not only _huge_ , he was obviously strong, with broad shoulders clearly built with muscles even through his suit jacket and woolen coat, and his eyes glittered with barely-restrained fury. He was going to hurt so badly. A sob caught in his throat as eyes dark as the Mariana Trench looked over him searchingly. _Making plans_ , Jason’s brain supplied helpfully, but he couldn’t turn his head or look away because that would violate his dad’s order.

“Nine years old,” Willis said, placing one hand on Jason’s head and trailing the other from Jason’s cheekbone to his chin. His hands were cold, the callouses rough and dragging on Jason’s skin. Jason grimaced, but couldn’t do anything else. “Healthy, too, and obedient long as you got his coat. A pretty little virgin.”

 _Liar_.

Jason flinched, but he still wasn’t allowed to talk. He wasn’t even allowed to look away from those eyes that sharpened at Jason’s reaction. For a terrifyingly hopeful second, Jason thought he was going to see through his dad’s lie and walk away, but the man looked from Jason to Willis with a cool expression.

He pulled a white envelope from his interior pocket and held it out to Willis. “Ten thousand. As agreed.”

Willis snatched the enveloped and tore it open. Jason’s skin tingled where his father had touched as the man counted out hundred dollar bills.

Willis counted twice before he tossed Jason’s coat to the man. “There. He’s yours.”

With the words completing the deal, the transition was complete, and Jason belonged to the new man now. Every order that his dad had given him snapped like ropes.

Until the man gave him new orders, Jason was free.

Jason took a deep breath to steel his courage, because he was only going to get one shot at this, and stepped forward as bravely as he could, until he was nearly touching the man—and then took off past him, hands covering his ears so he couldn’t hear the orders. His chest shook with a sob at the future looming over him without his coat, his _skin_ , but his future _with_ his coat was even worse.

Jason got five steps before a strong arm snatched the back of his shirt and hauled him back so fast Jason’s arms came down to balance himself on instinct.

“Don’t run,” the man told him, firm but not angry, which was somehow even more terrifying than screaming at him would have been. Jason was going to _pay_ for that.

“Let me go!” Jason begged, thrashing and kicking as best he could.

“Shut _up_ ,” Willis ordered, stepping forward with a clenched fist that was as effective as any magic could ever be.

The man held up a hand and turned them so that he was half in front of Jason, shielding him from his dad’s fist. Because he _didn’t want bruises_.

Jason buried his face in his hands as the tears stinging his eyes began to fall. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t _fair_! He didn’t ask for his dad to be awful, he didn’t ask for his mom to be dead from the drugs Willis gave her to numb the pain of being his slave, he didn’t ask to be _cursed_ to be a selkie.

A large hand rested on Jason’s head and gently carded through his hair, and Jason’s tears turned to full-body sobs.

“Hush, son. You’re safe now,” the man whispered, his breath hot against Jason’s ear, so close that only Jason could hear him. “Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

Jason cried harder and shook his head, because he _wasn’t_ safe, he was never going to be safe ever because he was a stupid selkie with a stupid coat he craved but hadn’t even held in years.

“Stop crying,” Willis groaned. “You might be a bitch, but you don’t have to act so much like it.” He stopped, then smirked down at Jason, his eyes glinting in anticipation. “Yet.”

The hand on Jason’s head stilled and slid down to Jason’s shoulder before squeezing tightly.

“I think we’re done here,” his new owner said icily. “Please come with me, son.”

His owner didn’t move, though, not until Willis hesitated, then turned and started back the way he’d come, not even looking back on the son he’d just sold. All Jason could think for a dazed few seconds was that he was never going to see his dad again. He was torn between overjoyed and terrified. He wasn’t getting pushed around by his dad anymore, but the new man was built like a bull and Jason hadn’t learned yet what was safe to say or do around him. The man could ban Jason from talking, from moving, from doing _anything_ that wasn’t pleasuring him if that was what he wanted to do to punish Jason.

Jason sobbed again, and the man knelt down, not seeming to mind the fetid wetness soaking into his fancy pants as he brushed Jason’s bangs from his eyes.

“You’re going to be alright,” the man promised. “I’m not going to rape you. Will you tell me your name?”

Jason hid his face behind his hands and cried, but the man didn’t snap at him or slap him or force him to uncurl from the defensive posture. He just waited, rubbing his hand over Jason’s shoulder in a mockery of a comforting gesture.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me,” the man said, like that was actually true and Jason was just going to get away with not giving the man something he’d asked for. “My name is Bruce. May I carry you to the car? You look pretty worn out.”

Jason couldn’t manage more than inarticulate pleas, for what he didn’t even know. The man— _Bruce_ , apparently—hummed in agreement and apparently took that as permission. Those strong arms came around Jason, one under his back and the other under his knees, and pulled him up against Bruce’s chest. Jason cried harder when Bruce started to rub firm circles in his back, and Bruce stopped and started moving.

Jason could fight. He couldn’t run, but he was allowed to fight, thrash and struggle against the arms carrying him to the end of the alley and down the street to a sleek black car parked at the curb, but as soon as he did, he was going to be banned from doing that too, and he needed to make it really count. Hopefully, Bruce wouldn’t punish him too badly for trying to run, but even if he did, Jason wasn’t going to have to do… _that_ without a fight.

Bruce opened the door of the car and crouched down to set Jason inside. Jason hesitated, then crawled inside turned his face to the far door so Bruce couldn’t see his tears or how scared he was, even though it was useless because the man already _knew_ that Jason was pathetic. It wasn’t even _worth_ pretending to be strong.

The car dipped slightly as Bruce climbed in after him instead of into the driver’s seat, and Jason raised his head in horror. They were starting _now_? In a nice car parked in the middle of Crime Alley? They were going to get killed! Couldn’t Bruce have the decency to fuck him in the financial district, at least?

“I got him, Alfred,” Bruce said, addressing—

Jason snapped his eyes up to the front of the car, and there was a man there in the front seat Jason hadn’t noticed. He was wearing black, a suit like Bruce’s, like they were about to go to a funeral or some shit. His hair was dark gray, and his moustache thick and trimmed.

Jason sobbed harder and pulled weakly at the door handle, but he already knew that it was going to be locked. He was so _fucked_. He just wanted to go home and hide in that little space under the sink where his dad never thought to look. He wanted a hug, his _mom_ , to curl up with her as she told him stories about the ocean and her life before Willis Todd had stolen her coat and forced her onto land, but he could never have her back, could never hide, because he was just as much a slave as she was to the rich man who’d bought him.

“Lad, you’re safe now,” Bruce said calmly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Jason shook his head with another cry, because that wasn’t true, it wasn’t—

Something was lain on his leg, sending a jolt through Jason’s body that could only be one thing, but it _couldn’t_ — It _couldn’t_ be—

Jason wrapped trembling fingers around it and pulled his coat up to his chest before his mind had even processed that it was a test.

If it was a test, he’d failed, but Jason would be _damned_ before he gave his coat willingly to anyone. He yanked his knees to his chest and took wild, gasping breaths to try to stop the crying so he could actually fight.

Bruce was staying still on his side of the bench, as far away from Jason as he could get in the back seat, and not reaching for Jason either, but Jason _knew_ that he didn’t get presents for nothing, and there would be _hell_ to pay for getting his coat back.

Bruce started to shrug off his own coat and Jason _screamed_ , but there was nowhere to go and no one to help him. It was too late. It was going to happen, and even with his coat, there was absolutely nothing he could do. Bruce looked up and held his hands up in mock surrender.

“I’m not going to touch you,” he said urgently. “You’re safe now, puppy.”

Jason froze.

 _Puppy_?

No one had called him that since before his mom had gotten _bad_. It was a selkie term of endearment for young pups, and he’d outgrown it long ago, even though his mom argued that he’d never outgrow it.

So how did the human man in front of him know it?

“I would never hurt a pup. I promise,” Bruce told him as he pulled his last arm from the sleeve, and…

No. There was no way.

Bruce slowly reached for the woolen overcoat that he’d removed. Jason watched in numb shock as Bruce placed it on Jason’s knee.

It couldn’t be.

A small jolt, like when his own coat had touched him but less sharp, ran through his body, and he grabbed a small fistful of the coat—the _skin­._

“You’re a _selkie_?” Jason whispered.

Bruce nodded with the barest off smiles. “Yes, lad.”

Jason grabbed Bruce’s coat and snatched it up against his chest, curling around it and baring his teeth, but Bruce just sat there and let him. He didn’t try to stop Jason, even though the movements weren’t very fast because it was a very large coat and he was a very small boy. He didn’t try to grapple with Jason to get his coat back before Jason could give him an order. He just…stared.

Jason stared back in complete shock for several seconds before his self-preservationist instincts crashed back into gear.

“Don’t rape me!” Jason cried desperately. “You’re not allowed to rape me! I don’t wanna have sex with you!”

“I would never,” Bruce promised, and his expression was patient even though Jason was yelling and _had his coat_ , and it didn’t make any sense at all. There was no way it was true; he was dreaming; his dad had punched him out, and he was in some coma dream where everything went well and he didn’t spend the rest of his life as a pleasure slave.

“Y-you’re not allowed to lie to me!” Jason shrieked. “Don’t lie to me!”

Bruce squared his jaw and nodded firmly. “I would never force myself on anyone who did not want me. I would rather die than touch a child sexually. I will not hurt you. I bought you because your father offered you to me, and I knew that if I didn’t buy you, someone else would, and that person would hurt you.”

It—there was no way it was true, but no way he could lie.

Jason’s face screwed up, and he choked on a sob. After nine years of his dad, nine years of being a slave, there was no way it could all be over in less than five minutes. That didn’t _happen,_ but it—it _did_.

Bruce shifted toward Jason, and Jason flinched back so hard he hit his head on the window before he realized that Bruce couldn’t want to hurt him because Jason had _told him_ that he wasn’t allowed to make Jason do anything, except he might be trying to get his coat back so he could rape Jason, except that he said he didn’t even _like_ kids or rape.

“It’s alright, lad,” Bruce said gently, opening his arms invitingly but not insistently.

Jason crashed into Bruce’s chest, leaving their pelts in a tangle behind him, but he didn’t care. Bruce’s arms wrapped around him and squeezed him _tighttighttight_ , but it didn’t hurt at all. Bruce was practically enveloping him, but it wasn’t scary like with his dad. It felt like being swallowed up by the waves of the ocean, safe and free from any human who might try to hurt him.

One of Bruce’s hands pressed Jason firmly against his own body, and the other went up and began to card through Jason’s curls.

“You’re safe now,” Bruce promised. “You will always be safe with me. _From_ me.”

Jason nodded with his face pressed into Bruce’s bony shoulder and shook with fresh sobs. Bruce tutted and gently kissed the top of Jason’s head before the hand on his head slipped away, leaving a cold spot in its absence. Jason whined in weak protest, even though he had no right to complain when Bruce wasn’t going to rape him after all.

Something warm brushed his back, sending a jolt through him as Bruce settled it over Jason’s shoulders.

It was Bruce’s coat.

Jason dug his fingers into the stiff fabric of Bruce’s button up and cried harder, even though he was probably ruining a shirt that cost more than he did. No one had ever wrapped him in their coat because his mama didn’t have her coat. Willis only let Jason keep his coat when he was smaller because he knew that Jason wouldn’t run without his mama, but Catherine had curled up around him in their bed every night, and she’d told him all about how _her_ mama and papa used to wrap her up in their coats when she was hurt or scared in the ocean and how safe and loved she’d felt. Only parents did that for their puppies, though.

“You’re safe,” Bruce whispered again, and, that time, it finally sank in for real.

No more _lessons_ with his dad. No more being smacked around for being too slow or too fast or too snarky. No more cruel orders. No more watching his mama suffer and waste away for months before she finally succumbed and died.

 _Safe_.

Bruce hugged him tightly again before raising his head to address the driver. “Alfred, we’re ready. Let’s go home.”

“Of course, Master Bruce,” the old man answered, and the car was rolling forward a moment later.

Bruce didn’t buckle them up, but he did grab Jason’s coat and let him hold it against his stomach Bruce held him, warm and truly safe for the first time in his life. Jason watched with heavying eyelids through the car window as the city lights faded to darkness broken up by only spaced out streetlights, leaving Crime Alley and everyone who’d ever hurt him far behind, and the darkness faded to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, my little brother (3) stole and drank half my americano. It's two shots of espresso plus a boatload of sugar. He is never, _ever_ going to sleep.
> 
> I'm housesitting this weekend! This is GREAT because that guarantees utter silence for, like, three days. *lives with six siblings and her parents* This is heaven. Also, it means I should be able to get in a bit more writing before school starts back on the 19th. Next up is the Titans Tower fic I promised E.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Changes of State](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29338680) by [Sword_Kallya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sword_Kallya/pseuds/Sword_Kallya)




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